Finding You

Fuck

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Santo Stephano
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"What the fuck is Andreas doing in there? It's been days since I told him to take care of Amadeo."

No one knows. Fuck this, I'll take care of it myself. I exit my office to the basement and push the door open. It's so fucking cold in this room.

Andreas sits there like a fucking psycho with a smile on his face, a knife in one hand, and a blunt in the other.

"Capo," He acknowledges me.

I look around, my eyes falling on the man tied to a chair before me.

"Please let me go, I swear I won't tell anyone."

"I told you to take care of this. Why isn't he dead?" I ignore Amadeo and focus my attention on Andreas.

He smiles and shrugs, "He knows something, had to figure it out." He blows the smoke into Amadeo's face.

Amadeo starts to cough and spit up blood. The sick fuck just laughs and stabs him in the knee before standing up and giving me the chair he was sitting in.

Andreas hands me a fresh blunt. "It's so much funner this way"

Funner isn't a word Andreas.

I lean back in my metal chair and breathe in the smoke from my blunt. The feeling of the smoke fills my mouth, and I feel the familiar buzz in my head.

"I don't want to die yet," his head falls and he looks down at the floor in despair.

I don't sympathize with him. He's a traitor. Selling our secrets to the Russians to "protect his family". At least that's what he says.

"You broke the code," I shrug and take another hit of my blunt, "Traitors must die."

"I had to do it, for my family. They were threatening them!" His snot falls from his nose and mixes in with the blood and spit on his face.

This is disgusting to look at. "Look the damage is done, now accept the punishment and make it easier on both of us."

He starts to hyperventilate, "I don't want to die. What about my family? Please don't kill me. I'll tell you anything you want to know-"

"Gesù Cristo, ha mai chiuso quella cazzo di bocca?" I look at Andreas, who just chuckles.
[Jesus Christ, does he ever shut the fuck up?]

"Ora sapete perché ci vuole così tanto tempo" He takes another hit.
[Now you know why it's taking so long]

"Please don't kill me, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, capo."

"You're a traitor, I'm not your capo anymore. Which means I can do whatever I want."

Instead of doing what I told Andreas to do, I think I'm going to have a little fun. Over on the table is an old record player. My dad kept it in the basement when he would torture people. I can admit, I fell in love with the practice too.

I can remember hiding while my dad worked down in the basement. He always had his records down here playing.

After choosing a song, I place the record on the record player and soon the sound of Dean Martin's "Everybody Loves Somebody" starts to fill the room. Almost hiding the sounds of the pleads.

My "friend" Amadeo, or as I call him testa di cazzo, is still pleading for his life. "Please capo, I swear I didn't mean to."

This is fucking disgusting. His snot and blood are mixing together and falling into his mouth. Every time he talks the spit/blood/snot mixture comes out and gathers in a puddle in his lap.